Swimming in uncertainty

Warning - I feel like this might infuriate lovely women who are trying so hard to get pregnant but haven't yet. So, if you are not up for the ramblings of a pregnant infertile, please click away. I won't bat an eyelid.

It feels like forever since the last ultrasound. The next one, scheduled for the near future (Tuesday morning), also seems like it is forever from now. All par for the course, ain't it.

The weather in my head this week has been overcast, with a few thundershowers sprinkled throughout. This even if in reality, there is no cause to think anything is wrong. But there was no suspecting anything was wrong last time either, which is the retort I can't get my mind to shut up about.

Being at the end of week 8 (8w5d today) feels like entering the valley of the shadow of death. My mind is trying to work out the details of when the D&C will happen, trying to anticipate my work schedule and my grandfather's imminent passing (he's now in palliative care - it's the end). I guess what I know of pregnancy, the parts that I know in my body and not just intellectually, have to do with lots of nausea, lots of medication and fear of weaning, lots of uncertainty, and then the end. My mind plays that tape, and each time, I say that it can be different this time. I pull out my list of things to combat anxiety (to which, dear readers, you have made a very significant contribution), and I get back to a state of semi-okayness.

And then I get distracted by the nausea and its management.  

Sigh.

All we can do is wait.

It's hard to imagine sharing this news with anyone outside of our close circle yet. As I was saying to Mr. A, what I'm most uncomfortable about is that people would feel (or look) more happy and excited about this than I do at the moment. Not that I am not happy and excited. You know I am. But those feelings are not predominant in my experience at the moment. I'm still a bit stuck on how crappy that is, and how unfair it is to the gummy bear. I should be jumping up and down instead of thinking every 10 minutes that  he/she is dead.

Can you control your feelings, Augusta? NO, no you can't.

Alright then, let's just ride them out.

So, we'll wait for Tuesday. All we can do is wait.  

From JM Barclay Photography